


Meet Cute

by Sinna



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 13:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12682542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinna/pseuds/Sinna
Summary: Sometimes meeting the love of your life involves a near-death encounter with your worst enemy





	Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I have like 5 separate headcanons for how Silas and Panto met but this one grabbed my by the throat last night and wouldn’t let me sleep until I wrote it so here y’all go

The sound of leaves underfoot.

Deep within the underbrush, Silas Dengdamor readied himself. His scissors felt strong and sturdy in his hands. Today was the day. Today, he would bring home the head of a monster, and his mother would no longer have cause to scorn him.

Today.

The brush of the creature’s footsteps grew louder. Silas waited patiently. It sounded huge. Truly, this would be a great prize, and one that would win him great honor.

Just a little closer…

He lunged, scissors opened and ready.

But the monster before him was no beast. Instead, it was a man with the telltale pink hair of a Trost.

“What are you doing on Dengdamor land, Trost scum?” Silas shouted, hoping he sounded braver than he felt.

“Dengdamor land? This land belongs to the Trosts!” the pink-haired man declared.

“This has been our hunting ground for years,” Silas insisted.

“We’ve graciously allowed you to hunt here,” pink hair retorted. “But that’s over now. You have five seconds to get out of my sight.”

Silas laughed. “I have no intention of leaving.”

“Then you shall perish!”

Silas tried desperately to remember the teachings of Wygar Oak as the Trost attacked him.

Block, parry, slash…

Suddenly, his scissors flew out of his hand and landed on the forest floor a few feet away. It was over before he could even get his thoughts together. This man was very, very good.

“Not so tough now, are you Dengdamor?” the Trost taunted.

“I was going easy on you.”

The lie rang completely false even to his own ears. He backed away from the deadly scissor blades, moving in the direction – he hoped – where he could reclaim his own scissors.

The Trost seemed perfectly content to simply menace him with the blades, twirling them, jabbing forward, and smiling every time Silas jumped back.

“Would you run now, miner?” the Trost wondered. “If I let you go, would you flee back to your filthy castle with your tail between your legs?”

“A Dengdamor never turns his back to the enemy,” Silas quoted, trying to sound like his mother.

“The Dengdamors are fools,” the Trost declared. “You value your pride over your life?”

“I value my honor,” Silas retorted. “Not that I’d expect you to understand that.”

The effect of the speech was quite ruined as he stumbled over his own scissor blades and fell to the ground.

The Trost knelt over him. This close, he didn’t look quite so threatening. He couldn’t be much older than Silas, and he was quite handsome. For a Trost.

A more rational part of his mind pointed out how ridiculous it was to be thinking that about the man who was holding scissorblades to his neck.

“You still choose your pride?” he asked, voice oddly gentle.

“I do.” His mother would never let him hear the end of it if he ran away from a fight. Better to die here and get it over with.

“Very well. I respect your courage. Your death shall be quick and painless.” For the first time, he seemed hesitant. “What is your name?”

“Silas.”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Silas?”

“Yes, I’m the prince. Congratulations, you’re about to become the most celebrated man in Inglenook.”

The resulting grin was… unexpected to say the least.

“Silas, don’t you remember me?”

What? How would he know a Trost?

Unless…

“Prince Panto?”

Panto nodded eagerly. Silas winced as his enthusiasm brought the blades closer to his neck. The grin vanished from Panto’s face.

They had only met once before, when their respective families had signed a peace treaty. Panto had been twelve, and Silas eleven. While the adults talked politics, their children had spent three blissful weeks playing together.

The treaty had collapsed within a year, and Silas had tried – and managed for the most part – to forget about the kind pink-haired prince and his mischievous sister.

“Are you still going to kill me?” Silas asked, very aware of the fact that Panto hadn’t relaxed his grip on the scissorblades.

“I… don’t know,” Panto admitted. “I should. It’s what’s expected of me. My father would be overjoyed.”

“Then just get it over with,” Silas suggested.

“Are you always this eager to die?” Panto asked. “Because there are herbs that can help you stop feeling like that.”

“Don’t you think you’d better decide whether or not you’re going to kill me before you start offering me herbal remedies?”

“I see your point.”

After a very long moment, Panto stood up and sheathed his scissors.

“How about I make you a deal? You don’t tell anyone how soft I am, and I won’t tell anyone how terrible you are with those scissors. We pretend this never happened. Deal?”

He held out his hand. Silas took it, and let Panto pull him to his feet. “Deal.”

He picked up his scissors, and tucked them into his own belt.

“And, uh, thank you for not killing me.”

“You’re very welcome. And I meant it about the herbs. If you’re really, uh, feeling that way.”

“Oh, I’m not!” Silas said. “I mean, well, you just kinda caught me on a bad day? My mum’s been on my case lately about honor and I’m supposed to bring home the head of a monster to prove I’m a worthy heir to the Dengdamor throne, but I’m pretty sure we just scared everything in the vicinity. So I’m not sure what I’m going to do about that, but I’ll live.”

“I might have an idea,” Panto said. “About a mile that way I ran across a dead troll. It looked recent enough if you want its head.”

“That’s definitely on Trost land,” Silas pointed out.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to accompany you.”

Silas stared in shock, but Panto was still smiling.

“I could kiss you,” Silas declared.

The entire forest seemed to go silent as he realized what he had said, and how much he actually meant it.

“I’m sorry that was…”

“I’d be okay with that actually,” Panto said at the same time.

“What?”

“Please don’t make me repeat that.” Panto was blushing almost as pink as his hair.

Silas stepped closer, watching Panto’s face closely for any signs of reproach and seeing only a mirror of his own desire.

Slowly, gently, he pressed their lips together, and the rest of the world faded away.

After a moment that could have been an eternity, he pulled away, hesitant to believe this was anything more than some sort of sick joke. Then, Panto opened his eyes and was staring at him with something like reverence.

Silas kissed him again. For good luck. Or something.

“So, uh, troll?”

“Right. Troll. Uh, Follow me.”

Silas went home with the head of a troll, earning a small smile from his mother. But that small smile, which would have been so precious just that morning, paled in comparison to something far more precious he had earned that day; Panto Trost’s heart.


End file.
